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“Yes, with me.” His voice was husky as he added, “You could tell me your secrets, and I’ll tell you mine.”

“No, thanks.”

“Why? I’m a good listener.”

“So you say.”

“That’s because I am.”

I grimaced. “I have my reasons for not sharing.”

“We all have reasons, Pierce.” He sipped his wine, watching me over the edge of the glass. “But unless we want to be alone all our lives, we have to push past them and trust others.”

I dropped my gaze. “My reasons are more unpleasant than the average persons.”

“Are you sure it’s not just because I’m an alpha, and you don’t trust alphas?”

“That too.”

He focused on his food, a line between his brows. His frustration was obvious from across the table, but he was apparently trying to hold it in. I finished my food slowly, peeking at him under my brows every few minutes. His expression remained tense, and I was annoyed that I cared.

When he was done, he pushed his plate away and finished his wine. He still didn’t speak, and I was surprised by how much that bugged me. I rose and took my plate to the sink. He poured himself another glass of wine, and he stood and went out on the back patio. I watched him walk around the yard, staring up at the big yellow moon.

I rinsed his plate and put all the food away, peeking out the window at him now and then. He stayed out there quite a while, but then he finally came back in. He set his empty glass in the dishwasher, and he started to leave the kitchen.

“Are you mad at me?” My voice was tense.

He stopped and faced me. “I don’t have any business being mad at you.”

“That doesn’t really answer the question.”

“I’m confused by you, Pierce. In more ways than one.”

“Why?”

He shook his head, his eyes dark and intense. “I don’t know.”

“You take it too personally that I don’t talk about my past,” I said softly.

“Itfeelspersonal.”

I exhaled. “It really isn’t. I don’t like to think about it, so why talk about it?”

“It’s just—” He sighed. “Never mind. I think I’ve had too much wine.” He shifted uneasily.

“You’ve had a long day. Maybe you should go to bed.”

“I should.” He stayed where he was. “I really should.”

His stare was piercing, so I grabbed the sponge from the sink and began to wipe down the granite counters. “Soon Brad will be here and things will be better.”

He scowled. “Why would they be better?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. You won’t have to live with the most private person in the world anymore.” I mocked his earlier statement.

“Sure. And you can go on never letting anyone in and living like an emotional shut-in.”

His snide tone pissed me off. “Just because I don’t letyouin doesn’t mean I won’t ever let anyone close.”